


Resistance

by thecatsmeow87



Series: From the Perspective of Kylo Ren [1]
Category: Star Wars
Genre: Eventual Kylo Ren/Rey, Gen, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Interrogation, Mental Non-con, Prelude to Reylo, Psychological Torture, mind probe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 10:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecatsmeow87/pseuds/thecatsmeow87
Summary: In which Poe Dameron is interrogated, from the perspective of Kylo Ren.





	Resistance

**A/N:** This is the preface to a series focusing on Kylo Ren’s interactions with Rey in _The Force Awakens_ , from his perspective. Poe’s interrogation is included to set up and contrast Ren’s behavior with Rey. I realize I’m a little late to the party, but I felt that _The Last Jedi_ clarified Reylo’s relationship enough that I could go back and rewrite Kylo Ren without messing up his character. I found the novel to be terribly overbearing, but I did pull some dialog from it. Go easy on me, I haven’t written in years and this is one of my first forays into fan fiction.

 **A/N:** Can be read as a standalone, but **Resistance** serves as a preface to **Found** / **Forced** / **Forged.** I own nothing from Star Wars.

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Kylo Ren strode into the darkened room, its cavernous walls lit only by dim auxiliary lights and the pulsing hum of a nearby interrogation droid. It had failed— _pathetically,_ Ren noted—to extract any valuable information from its victim. But he would concede it had done its job thoroughly; the man shackled on the metal table had resisted quite valiantly at first, but now lay still, a shadow of his former self. Fresh blood, bright and glistening, trickled down his temple and pooled beneath his wounds, dark bruises welting up from the application of intense pressure. Observing this, Ren contemplated with irritation that the First Order’s interrogators, even with their torturous droids, had managed to learn nothing except the identity of the prisoner before him. But it was of little consequence. No one had yet been able to endure _his_ inquisitions—at least not without permanent damage.

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board,” Ren said, his voice low and calibrated through his mask. He spoke lightly, with a mockery that could be almost mistaken for candor. Anger, fringed with simmering impatience, had made him deceptively calm; it had taken far too long, with far too many distractions, to obtain the map leading to—to _him._ The name that crept to his mind was a poison, unworthy of being spoken or even thought.

Suddenly aware of another’s presence, Poe Dameron raised his bloodshot eyes and drew in a weary, shallow breath.

“Comfortable?” Ren asked cruelly.

The pilot swallowed and leaned forward. “Not really.” His voice was raw from screaming. 

“None of this… _unpleasantness_ …need be necessary, you know,” Ren noted, gesturing towards the interrogation chair. “We both wanted the same thing from the old man.” He paused, reflective. “It is pathetic, though. Is it not? You and I, both in pursuit of a ghost.” Poe stared at him, unfettered resentment flashing behind his eyes. _Hatred,_ Ren sensed, _raw and bitter, hurling towards him. Fear, poorly guarded. Pain._ And there… _a glimmer of smugness, dampened by the abject failure of his mission._ These whispers of thoughts and feelings danced through the forefront of Dameron’s mind, and Ren called them forth with almost senseless ease. It was the shadows—the deeper, guarded secrets of the soul—that required extraction.

As the dark figure approached, the black camouflage of his mask concealed a smile turning on the corner of Ren's lips. Though unseen, Dameron sensed the threat, immediately. He began to struggle against his restraints.

“I regret their necessity,” Ren purred, his words cordial, but a deadly undercurrent rippled through his voice. “The others who have made your acquaintance possess only the most primitive of abilities.” He towered over the pilot, sinister. “Perhaps that is why no one has been able to get out of you,” he hissed softly, “what you _did_ with the map.”

A spark, driven either by arrogance or pain, revived Dameron briefly. He leaned forward with a smirk. “You might want to rethink your technique.”

All pretense of diplomacy over, Ren barely paused before stretching out his hand. Without hesitance, in the span of an instant, he tore open Dameron’s mind, watching the man’s face contort at the invasion. This was not a collection of ambient thoughts, of simple feelings and extant memories, as he had gleaned earlier. _This_ was deeper, violent, an unbidden entry into the most sheltered vaults of the mind. An astonishing pain began to swell within Poe, liquid fire scorching through his veins as he fought against the torment. Sweat ran in rivulets down his skin as his body began to move forward, straining forward against the restraints, called forth by an unknown Force.

“ _Where_ … _is…it_?” Ren hissed. **  
**

“The Resistance…will not…be intimidated by you,” Dameron gasped, struggling for breath as his body and throat constricted. 

Ren tightened his grip and tilted his head, contemplative. “There is no ‘Resistance’ in this room. Only the pilot Poe Dameron. And I.”

With a sharp movement, Ren tightened his grip, and his captive’s body slammed violently back against the table, muscles convulsing in a futile effort to fight the assault within his mind. Raw, savage brutality, searing, piercing, _taking_ —Ren could feel it, sense it, reaping what he saw fit, and the only power left in his prisoner was that to scream, echoing in Ren’s mind like the screams of so many before.

The sensory capsules of the interrogation droid shattered at the sound.       


End file.
